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A few of you made a bet that I would meet a nice guy in Chicago. I'm not one to drag things out so I will just cut to the chase: I had a nice hard apple cider and a three hour conversation with Jefe, a car crash survivor. The normal men I meet are naturally men who overcome great tragedies. It's truly applicable to all the other "normal" in my life.

Jefe recently moved back to Chicago from NC, by way of Atlanta. He attended Wake Forest where he earned his degrees in accounting. His date idea: Go to the Art Institute and do some of the crafts for kids? Last time I was there they were making hats and I really wanted one! Seriously, is this guy for real? He loves the Talking Heads, has seen David Byrne in concert and thinks Naive Melody is their best song. For real! We walked around the Navy Pier instead since the museum had closed for the day.

Before we began anything, he escorted me over to an area where a DJ played hip hop music for seven year olds. This had thoroughly entertained Jefe while I was running late and he insisted on showing me. I almost asked if he wanted to dance, but I didn't have the frijoles to do so. I immediately told him I was visiting Chicago to attend classes at Second City and to go to a music festival with friends (yeah, BWS). I can't have men hopelessly falling in love with me and soon finding out that I have ditched them for another city.

Then I noticed that he had a tracheotomy. Using what little filter I have, I did not point it out or stare at it (you are welcome, Enforcer). He ended up talking about how he basically spent the last two years recovering from a car accident where no one else was involved. He had lain in a coma for two weeks, not able to remember how he drove into a tree. When his mother visited him in the hospital, his first smile came from her offer to get Jefe a dog. He started tearing up while telling the story. Or, it was the result of his gin and tonics. I can't really be sure. We talked about movies, music, his next career move and books. He reads. What? Yes, I said he reads. Although amazing male authors abound, I often forget that men read. It's ridiculous and I am not sure where it comes from since I have a degree in English and my advisor was (still is) male. Oh, me!

After about three hours, I told him I had to go home to have dinner. I couldn't think of other questions to ask and he had already ordered two drinks and kept covering his face with his hands when I would tell him something funny or shocking. He said he had a nice time and we hugged one another goodbye. Of course, a man that doesn't make moaning sounds when slamming his body into mine lives in the mid-west. Of course! And I was referring to a hug. You are better than that, my people!